


We're Undeniable

by neerdowellwolf



Series: I Know You Are, But [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Intercrural Sex, Lacrosse, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Roscoe - Freeform, mentions of physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neerdowellwolf/pseuds/neerdowellwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Stiles thought their brief foray from nemesis to lovers would change the dynamic between him and Isaac, he couldn’t have been more wrong. They still sniped at each other across Derek’s loft, bickered while running through the preserve and rolled their eyes at each other in the cafeteria. Stiles isn’t sure what he was expecting, but the status quo was definitely not it. He figured rubbing your junk against someone else’s junk would alter the relationship, for better or worse.</p><p>A sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144943">Takes One To Know One </a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Undeniable

If Stiles thought their brief foray from nemesis to lovers would change the dynamic between him and Isaac, then well he couldn’t have been more wrong. They still sniped at each other across Derek’s loft, bickered while running through the preserve and rolled their eyes at each other in the cafeteria. Stiles isn’t sure what he was expecting, but the status quo was definitely not it. He’d figured rubbing your junk against someone else’s junk would alter the relationship, for better or worse, he doesn’t care either way. When he’d blown Danny after they won the lacrosse semi-finals Danny had at least had the decency to be overly nice to him until Stiles told him in no uncertain terms it was weird and he could stop. 

But no, he and Isaac are still casually adversarial and it’s pissing Stiles off. They’re in the library with Lydia ostensibly working on their econ project, but mostly theorizing about what Peter is up to while Isaac and Stiles glare at each other.

“The concept of kiss and make up is lost on you two.” Lydia says, not looking up from her notebook. Stiles squeaks, and is about to voice his offense when Lydia lifts her hand to stop him. “Sweetheart, let’s not pretend I don’t know exactly what’s going on here.” 

Isaac looks affronted, but keeps quiet, raising his eyebrows at Stiles. 

“Oh no you don’t, you cannot put the ball in my court with one eyebrow waggle.”

“Ok, that is my cue that I should have already left.” Lydia flips her hair over her shoulder as she stands up. “And you really should tell Scott, you know he’s trying for the whole ‘pack without secrets’ thing.”

“I am aware.” Isaac laments. “Just like I’m aware Scott gets a boner whenever he hears My Heart Will Go On.”

“Titanic was a transformative moment for a lot of people sexually!” Stiles retorts. “But yeah, I really don’t need to hear about every confusing dream Malia has about Finstock.”

Stiles grimaces and tries to not to picture Finstock in any way in flagrante, but then he giggles a little wondering if he wears his whistle during sex. That whistle is seriously Stiles’ nemesis probably more than Finstock even is. He’d throw it out a million bus windows if he could. Stiles is not looking forward to lacrosse practice today, because based on Finstock’s mood in Econ they’re definitely doing something super punishing. As soon as he thinks that his stomach drops with realization.

He looks at Isaac who must have just come to the same conclusion, because they both freeze and look at the clock. It’s 4:42 and practice starts in three minutes. They sweep their books into their backpacks and sprint out of the library, nearly mowing over two underclassmen in the process. They make it to the locker room and change in record time, but it’s 4:55 when they make it out to the field. Scott shoots them a questioning glare as they try to unobtrusively join the line for drills. 

“Stilinski! Lahey! Don’t think I can’t see you sneaking onto my field!” Coach Finstock stalks over to them, fingering his whistle, a smile forming on his face. “I was just thinking I never get to give out laps anymore. Since you two delinquents were ten minutes late, let’s say fifteen laps each after practice.”

“Coach, don’t you mean ten laps? One for each minute we were late?” Stiles provides. Isaac elbows him the ribs. 

“Stilinski, if I had known math was so important to you, I would have given you 20 laps.” Finstock looks incredibly pleased with himself. “In fact, why don’t I just do that. 20 laps!” His face glows with unrestrained glee. 

Stiles starts to object, but Isaac drags him away. “Dude, where were you guys?” Stiles feels bad, because Scott looks so genuinely concerned. He really should tell Scott, but how is he going to explain the concept of antagonistic hand jobs to someone who thinks the couple from The Bachelor “seem really good for each other.” He gets kind of distracted thinking about how Scott is definitely the best person he knows when suddenly a lacrosse ball whacks him in the chest and falls to his feet. He’s wearing pads, but it still stings. He looks up to see Isaac jogging backwards down the field. Stiles can’t see his whole face, under his helmet, but he can tell he’s laughing.

“Come on, Stilinski, ball’s in your court.” Stiles picks up the ball and follows Isaac down the field toward the goal, mocking Isaac under his breath. 

Stiles and Isaac end up paired together for a bunch of drills and Isaac seems to be holding back his werewolf strength less than usual. Stiles knows he’s still paying for the Great Pizza Incident of 2014 (Kira’s words), but he’s still annoyed. Logically he knows that trying to keep up with werewolves on the field is making him stronger and faster, but today he just wants to trip Isaac with his crosse even if it is his fault they’re doing those five extra laps.

Practice ends and Stiles is hoping Finstock has forgotten about their laps (it wouldn’t be the first time), but as he approaches the bleachers, the coach is propping his feet up and pulling a newspaper out of his duffle. 

“Now, what did I say? Fifteen?”

“Yes, sir!” Stiles chirps, just as Isaac says, “You said twenty.”

“I like you, Lahey, better start on your twenty.” Finstock laughs, eyes darkening to bark at Stiles, “Quit gawkin’ at me, Stilinksi! You now owe me twenty-five!” 

Stiles glares at Isaac, who’s grinning wildly at him. They start jogging around the perimeter, falling into step with each other. Half-way into lap six Stiles breaks down. “I cannot believe you told him the truth. You are such a brown-noser.”

“My father used to literally beat me if I lied to him, so excuse me if I don’t jump at the chance to lie for your sake.”

“Dude! You always take it there and then I’m always the asshole being mean to an abuse victim!” 

“No one is making you be mean to an orphan, Stiles.” Isaac sneers at him, before picking up his pace, yelling over his shoulder, “and don’t think I’ve forgotten about the pizza!”

Stiles grumbles his way through the next eighteen laps. Isaac eventually speeds ahead of Stiles and ends up lapping him twice, terrifying Stiles both times (“I’m telling Malia to stop teaching you her coyote sneak tips!”) before heading into the locker room. Finstock eventually gets bored of yelling at the crossword puzzle and goes home, warning Stiles that if he doesn’t run all his laps he’ll know. Stiles thinks about bailing around 22, but figures he might as well finish. He’s also not entirely sure Finstock won’t actually know. 

When he gets into the locker room it’s completely empty and so quiet he thinks Isaac must have already finished and left. Then he hears a shower turn on. He pulls off his clothes, haphazardly tossing them in front of his locker, wraps a towel around his waist and heads towards the showers. 

He realizes he and Isaac are alone in the locker room and with the practice schedule the way it is, everyone else is probably long gone by now. Stiles thinks about Isaac saying the ball was in his court earlier. Was that a hint? Isaac had been dropping more double entendre lately. Not clever, his ass. 

Isaac is showering against the far wall, working shampoo through his hair. Stiles kind of can’t believe how good he looks in the low light of the locker room and he feels his cock start to swell as he admires the planes of Isaac’s back. Stiles hesitates before standing under a shower a few over from where Isaac is leaning against the tiled wall. Stiles wonders if he should just reach out and close the distance between them. If that’s a thing he can just do. 

“Stiles.”

“Yes, Isaac?”

“You’re not going to say anything like, ‘Need a hand?’ are you?”

“Ok, I’m insulted you think I would be that cliched.”

“I might give you more credit if so much blood wasn’t rushing away from your brain.” 

“Awwww, you noticed!” Stiles turns to grin at him, but Isaac is already moving to his space. He moves toward him with grace and confidence, but Stiles looks up and his eyes are wide and unsure. It makes the breath catch in his throat and he tugs Isaac toward him before he can start thinking too much about it. 

The water makes Isaac’s skin hot and slippery and Stiles slides his hands over it as he pulls Isaac’s face toward his. Their kiss is slow and deliberate and Stiles sighs into it as Isaac backs him into the wall. They stand under the spray kissing slowly, the languid slide of their cocks against each other secondary to their lips. Isaac whimpers at the back of his throat and the sounds tugs at Stiles. He rakes his nails down Isaac’s back, because the alternative is trying to pull Isaac closer and he doesn’t even know how he could or what it would mean.

Isaac groans as Stiles pulls his bottom lips between his teeth. He leans back and pivots Stiles so his chest is pressed into the tile. Stiles starts to talk, but Isaac is mouthing at his shoulder, then licking a line up his neck before flicking his tongue against his earlobe. His breathing is hot in Stiles ear and whispers, “I wanna to do something. OK?” Stiles wants to say something cutting or sarcastic, but he instead he’s nodding and gasping, “Uh huh. Yes. Yeah.” He bites his lip before he comes up with any more aspirational synonyms. His control, tedious at best, is slipping even further and he feels on the precipice of humiliation. 

Isaac drags his hands down Stiles sides, detouring to spread his fingers across his abs. His mouth is attached to Stiles’ neck, biting and sucking with abandon. Stiles remembers that last time he had a hickey the size of Texas for days and whines in protest. “Hnnnng, Rhode Island or smaller this time please.” Isaac chuckles dragging his teeth up his neck.

“Stiles, I’m trying to fuck your brains out, but this is ridiculous.” Stiles cranes his neck and captures the werewolf’s lips with his. He knows he’s going to come up with a million good comebacks while trying to get to sleep tonight, but right now the steam of the shower is making the whole thing feel safe and warm and he sighs into the kiss, reaching behind him to wrap his fingers in Isaac’s hair. They stand like that for a long time. Stiles can feel Isaac’s cock shoved against the top of his ass, but neither of them move it along, content to get lost in the feel of each other’s mouths. 

Finally, Isaac slides his hands down Stiles’ hips and squeezes, pushing his legs together. He soaps up his cock and before Stiles even has a chance to feel excited they’re going to this, they’re already doing it. Isaac’s cock is sliding into the space between Stiles’ thighs, gliding along the underside of his balls. Stiles tips his head back onto Isaac’s shoulder and releases a litany of curses. He let’s his head loll back and is relieved when Isaac wraps his arm around his waist. He sags back into him, letting his freaky werewolf strength hold him up. Isaac is grunting and breathing heavily into his ear and between that and the smooth drag of Isaac’s cock along his balls his body is thrumming and he doesn’t ever want to come. Just wants to stay wrapped up in the heat of the steam and Isaac’s skin against his. 

As if on cue, Isaac wraps his fist around Stiles’ cock and he gasps, craning his neck, because if he doesn’t kiss Isaac right now he might explode. This kiss is desperate and sloppy, so in contrast to the lazy kissing they were doing earlier. It trips Stiles up, because this isn’t really what this is supposed to be, or how it’s supposed to feel. This isn’t sexual one-upmanship or a battle of wills. Nothing has ever felt like this for Stiles, not with Danny or with Malia. His whole body is a live wire and Isaac is touching him everywhere, but it’s not enough. If he could just pull him a little closer, maybe he’d feel satisfied. 

Stiles is pulled from his thoughts by Isaac pulling back from their kiss. “Oh god. I’m so close. Stiles. Stiles, I wanna see you come.” He didn’t even realize he was close, but those words are enough to push his orgasm out of him, coming over Isaac’s hand and the shower wall. He sags a little and Isaac pulls him tighter against his chest, taking the brunt of Stiles weight. Isaac’s orgasm follows moments later with a low whine, biting into Stiles shoulder. He gnaws at the muscle there through his aftershocks and Stiles’ is overwhelmed by how adorable it is. 

They stand there, not moving while they catch their breath. "Holy shit," Stiles pants as he regains his footing, feeling a little too much like Bambi for his taste. "Yeah." Isaac unwinds his arms from Stiles' waist and gives his stomach an awkward pat as he steps away. Just like that the spell is broken and Stiles steps away, unsure of where to look or put his hands. The moment slides away like sperm down the drain.

They dry off and dress in silence and Stiles keeps thinking he should say something. Make a joke. Make fun of Isaac's sweater. Something. Anything. But the longer it goes on the more oppressive the silence becomes and by the time Isaac reaches into his locker to pull out two scarves, consider them briefly, before wrapping one around his neck and putting the other one back, Stiles is too lip locked to crow about it. They exit the school together, and Isaac nods and takes off across the lacrosse field before Stiles realizes he should probably offer him a ride.

Stiles shuffles to his jeep, the adrenaline from practice and sex fading and leaving him bone tired. He can't wait to get home and sack out on the couch. His dad is working for a couple more hours, so he can avoid his homework without fear of reprisal. He dumps his backpack into the passenger seat and turns the car on. He's jolted alert by music blasting from the speakers, not deafening, but definitely louder than he remembers listening to it this morning. And it's Katy Perry, which is weird, because he's pretty sure that the UCBH station should be playing that awful world music show right now and Katy Perry is, like, the opposite of that? He goes to change the channel, but nothing happens, which sucks because he just replaced his brake lines last month and there's no way his Dad is going to view replacing his stereo favorably. He's too exhausted to think about it, so he tries to turn it off, but nothing happens. The same when he tries to turn the volume down. This is just great, he feels like he brought this on himself, wishing for something to distract him from thinking about what just happened and apparently he should have been more specific, because California Girls definitely works, but it’s also the worst.

Filing his busted stereo, along with his homework, under Deal With Tomorrow he pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards home. He's pulling into his driveway when he realizes California Girls is still playing, has been playing the entire time. He reaches for his phone and sure enough there's a SnapChat from Isaac waiting for him. Fuming, he opens it. It's a video of Isaac singing and Stiles doesn't need to turn the volume up to know. 

He stomps into the house, mumbling under his breath about his revenge. It has to be bigger than this, but not so much bigger that it’s actually mean. And it has to be clever, because this was actually really clever. And complicated. He didn’t realize Isaac had this in him. It seems like a level of gadget trickery way beyond someone who isn’t allowed to borrow Derek’s Toyota anymore because he kept accidentally setting off the alarm instead of locking the doors. Of course he had help, it makes perfect sense. Stiles is fuming now. Lydia is his first guess. She has the ability to pull it off, but she tends to avoid intrapack disputes and there’s no way she would let herself get pulled in over the likes of a pizza. Scott probably would, just for giggles, but this level of technical wizardry is probably beyond him. Danny could do it, but he’s not even sure he’s ever talked to Isaac. He mentally scrolls through the rest of the pack, until he realizes the obvious. Allison. Stiles has seen Allison hotwire cars faster than some people can unlock them and her love of mischief runs deep. It had to be Allison.

He kicks his sneakers off and calls Allison. She at least has the decency to try to sound apologetic when she answers.

“Allison, you traitor! I know it was you.” He screeches into his phone. 

“Stiles, I’m sorry! It was too good. I had to help.” He gapes at the phone indignantly. “You should be thanking me! He wanted me to use the Glee version.”

“I will thank you when you FIX IT… you can fix it right?! Oh my god, please tell me you can fix this.”

“Stiles! Of course I can fix it. It’s just…”

“It’s just what, Allison? Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”

“I promised him I wouldn’t turn it back for three days.”

“THREE DAYS?!?! Over a pizza?! This is madness.”

“He wanted to do it for a week. You know how Isaac is about food. It probably has something to do with his fath-”

“OH MY GOD!”

“I’ll fix it on Friday during my free period, OK?”

“I find your stunning lack of loyalty very upsetting, Allison.” Stiles sighs, rubs his palm against his forehead and momentarily accepts defeat. “Friday, Allison. You are putting my stereo back the way God intended on Friday.”

Suddenly Stiles has a realization and his stomach drops. “Allison, when did you do this?” He’s already starting to feel so, so stupid. 

“Oh! I snuck out during my free period, when you were in Chemistry. I can’t believe you’re just calling me. Didn’t practice get out like two hours ago?”

Relief floods Stiles system, his shoulders untense and he leans against his desk. He schools his features and tries to sound casual when he responds, "Allison, don't you know better than to ask about my activities when my father is on nights."

"Ew, Stiles! Maybe I'll just leave your jeep the way it is? Katy and Roscoe does have a nice ring to it..."

"No. No! You will not do that. You will fix it on Friday, because you are my friend and you love me. I'm getting off the phone now, so it stays that way."

Allison chuckles as she says goodnight and Stiles feels a sigh of relief. He's not sure why he's nervous about her finding out about tonight. She'll probably know by tomorrow anyway. Everyone seems to know about the last time. Fuck, he really needs to tell Scott. He probably already knows and Stiles is being a horrible friend right now. Ugh, he's the worst. He just doesn't want Scott to be disappointed in him. He'll tell him tomorrow when he gets to school. First thing. 

That night he dreams that Scott finds him and Isaac in a dewy meadow and Stiles is trying to explain himself, but he can't seem to speak or stop kissing Isaac. Scott just watches them as Stiles tries desperately to explain himself. There’s also a bit with Kevin Spacey as his dad, but that maps less obviously with his current situation. 

He's so tired the next morning he's not even paying attention when he turns the ignition.

I know a place, where the grass is really greener! Uh huh!

"Oh god dammit!" He shrieks, hands flying away from the steering wheel like he's been burned. He sits, fuming when his father peaks his head into the garage. 

"Everything Ok in here?" His concerns quickly flickers to amusement as he sees Stiles' face. "Interesting choice, kid. Is this off Teenage Dream?"

"First of all, I cannot even conceive of how you know that, dad." Stiles grumbles. "And second of all, maybe we can just not talk about this? At all? ever?" He puts his car into reverse. "It's not funny, Dad!" He glances back as he pulls onto the street to see his father head back into the house, still laughing. Stiles mutters the whole day to school about sneaky werewolves and disloyal fathers.

By the time he's pulling into the parking lot he's drumming the steering wheel and humming along. He pulls into a spot and immediately sees Isaac leaning against the bike rack, smirking at him. He decides quickly that the best defense is a good offense, rolling down his window a crack and belting out the chorus. He see’s Isaac’s smile falter for a second and it makes his body thrum with energy. He grins as he slides out out the door, calling out, “Isaac, don’t you look hot enough to melt a popsicle today!”

Isaac’s eyebrows arch aggressively, but he looks genuinely at a loss. Stiles is tempted to take it as a victory and flounce off, but something stops him and he doesn’t really want to walk away. “So, are you ready for this pop quiz in Econ?” He says finally, moving towards the school. Isaac falls into step behind him and soon they’re chatting amiably. Scott looks genuinely shocked when they enter the classroom together, but it’s quickly replaced by a pleased smile. Stiles thinks he’s probably a little too happy about him and Isaac having one conversation, but if Scott’s happy, he’s happy. He and Isaac end up sitting next to each other in the back of the room. They busy themselves pulling their books out of their backpacks. When they’re settled, Stiles glances over and catches Isaac watching him. Isaac blushes and his eyes go wide. Stiles doesn’t know what to do with that, but he leans over and whispers over his shoulder, “Be honest, someone gave you the idea for the Katy Perry thing, right?”

Isaac looks offended for a moment, before letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah, it was Erica’s idea. Apparently she wanted to do it to you last year, but she didn’t want to ask Allison or Lydia for help.”

Stiles grins and looks up front as Mr. Yakimura starts talking. He tries to pay attention, but he can’t stop glancing over at Isaac, watching his long fingers drum leisurely against the side of his desk. He gets a little lost thinking about them and what else they could do when Isaac catches him staring. He meets his eyes and he wants to look away, knows he’s blushing, but Isaac smiles at him. It’s small and mostly a smirk, but Stiles is still grinning to himself long after Isaac has turned back to the board. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening, but he’s sure it’s something.

**Author's Note:**

> BETA'd by the amazing [thing1](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thing1/pseuds/thing1) , who was also the person who got me into Teen Wolf in the first place. 
> 
> Special thanks also to [vvvvv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvvvv/pseuds/vvvvv) for being an amazing porn sounding board, coming up with half of my good ideas and just basically being the best.
> 
> This was supposed to be another one-shot, but it kind of grew feelings. These two assholes are just the best. S4 isn't even back and I miss Isaac already.


End file.
